


Halloween Hearts (And Other Parts)

by toucanpie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff and Humor, Halloween Costumes, Lingerie, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanpie/pseuds/toucanpie
Summary: Of course he's going to invite the kid to his Halloween party. That's what good mentors do.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 190
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	Halloween Hearts (And Other Parts)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intoxicatelou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/gifts).



> Set in a happy post-Endgame world where nobody died and Pepper and Tony didn't get back together after Civil War.

A.K.A THE TEN STEP GUIDE TO SEASONAL HAPPINESS BY TONY STARK

  


* * *

  


Step One: Receive message from mentee expressing joy at receiving an invite to your exclusive Halloween party

"You're sure it's going to be his crowd?" Steve says.

Tony shrugs, pouring himself another drink. When he looks up, Steve is still staring, an expectant look still evident on his so-smooth-it-must-be-botox (or was it just Maybelline?) forehead.

"What do you think's going to happen at this party? Strippers dressed as bats jumping out of cakes? Mad science? Cocaine?"

"Tony."

"Come on, I've been very responsible. I even cancelled the giant fanged bunnies for the driveway. It's gonna be great."

"I'm just saying, I've heard about your parties and - " 

Ahhh, now they arrive at the crux of the problem. His bad boy rep.

"And what? You don't think we all deserve the 'awww' moment that comes from seeing the kid dressed as a giant pumpkin? Or a wizard? Or a slutty bunny or whatever?"

"Really?"

"Fine, a slutty pumpkin, I don't know."

Sometimes they get a bit drunk after their Friday night shifts (or Tony should say that _he_ gets a bit drunk. He's pretty sure Steve is just humouring him). It was a good way to end a week of successful superheroing. Or a good way for Tony to lose the throb in his left ankle under the gentle haze of alcohol, anyway. 

God, he's getting old.

 _Old_. 

Way too old to care if anyone thinks Peter shouldn't come to his party. (Of course he should. Kid works too hard not to play hard too.)

"A slutty ...wizard?"

No, that was probably Strange's department. Better not to step on his wizardly toes. 

Anyway, the point was: Peter was totally coming to his party. Wild horses would not be permitted to drag him away.

  


* * *

  


Step Two: Receive video call from mentee of nice but pitiful costume they are intending to wear to your exclusive Halloween party

"Wow."

Tony finds himself struggling to keep a neutral look on his face as Peter does a full spin, shuffling under what looks like a sheet doubling as a toga. In the background Tony's pretty sure he can see a glue gun. Which could be good and could be bad.

Who knew that people still did homemade Halloween costumes when the internet was right there? Full of all the normal non-tasteful options. Had Gen Z not got the memo that Halloween was when you put it all out there and no-one was allowed to judge?

"You hate it," Peter says, suddenly sounding bereft.

"No. Very retro, very cool. You sure you don't want to let FRI help you pick something out?" 

Peter frowns stubbornly and looks down at his toes. "No, it's okay."

"Right."

That look on Peter's face was probably about the watch Tony'd sent for his birthday. Or the jet ski still waiting in the lower garage. Or the keys to that helicopter he'd only half joked about. Maybe he'd gone a bit overboard in response to the failed driving test.

NBD. 

"Look, Pete -"

"It's fine, Mr Stark. Honestly." 

It isn't (clearly) because Peter can't seem to look at the camera anymore. But screw it, Tony doesn't keep receipts and they'll have fun with the helicopter one day.

"Whatever you feel most comfortable in, kiddo. Anyway gotta go, can hear someone calling. PS. Someone told your generation that Halloween is for being slutty, right?"

"What?"

Peter's head snaps up just as Tony presses the button to end the call.

Whoops, Tony thinks as the screen goes black. Oh well. 

  


* * *

  


Step Three: Receive text from mentee clearly sent to you by mistake stating Halloween has got to be 'the night' and that mentee needs something 'really sexy (help)' to wear underneath his costume in order to [censored inappropriate emojis]

"Oh boy," Tony says. His mind insists on counting the exact number of eggplants present on the screen. He makes it to seven and then comes up against the peaches. "Houston, we have a problem."

Only half of the board sighs. It's a very sympathetic sound. Just what Tony needs to counteract the awkward hilarity of Peter having sent him a very, very, thirsty little thirst text.

"Tony, please put your phone down," Pepper says.

He does, many years of training kicking in. Then he picks it back up because he hadn't finished counting the peaches and it seems important to know how many are present.

"I might need a -"

"No," Pepper says.

"You haven't even -"

"No."

Tony puts the phone back down on the table.

"Later," he whispers to it. "My CEO is a meanie."

  


* * *

  


Step Four: Pretend nobly not to have read said text and promise to delete it instantly.

**oh my god mr stark** , the second text reads. It and its cousins arrived while he was still listening to many, many financial projections.

**dont read my other message**

**sorry sorry just delete**

**everything**

**this is so bad, he saw the text!!**

**fuck. please can we pretend today didn't happen?**

**text, what text?** Tony types back. (Very, very nobly because he's a great mentor) 

Then, because Peter has probably been stewing for the entire two hours and fifteen minutes of his meeting, he kindly adds: **my phone has been acting odd all day. sorry if you sent something, probably didn't get through.**

Peter doesn't reply.

Thirty minutes later, when Tony's just about to head out to check the kid's not busy destroying the local cell tower, his phone finally buzzes in his hands.

**thanks, mr stark. sorry about everything. i'll see u at the party. i'm deleting your number until then so i don't bother you again.**

  


* * *

  


Step Five: Instruct your personal shopper to pick out something frivolous, maybe edible, for a friend to wear underneath their Halloween costume to make the night special.

"Didn't know you and Peter were close like that," Natasha says, having been given a run down on events so far.

Tony doesn't exactly know how to read her face. Is that a tiny smile of approval in the corner of her mouth or a muscle twitch that says she's thinking about killing someone? (Hopefully not him, probably not him. He knows better than to try and buy _her_ helpful underwear.)

"This is what mentors do, right? Use the resources at their disposal to help out their proteges." 

"Sure," Natasha says, pouring herself more of his wine. "By buying them sexy underwear."

"I said frivolous."

"You typed the word 'edible', I saw you."

"He should have fun while he's young!"

Natasha laughs, shaking her head. "God Tony, does that mean the rest of us should be slowing down?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I haven't eaten anyone's underwear off in -"

She holds the wine glass up in front of her face like it's a stop sign.

"I do not need you to finish that sentence. Please don't finish that sentence."

He can't help himself. "Why? Is it the pure animal magnetism? Do you think you wouldn't be able to restrain yourself? Would you feel unable to -"

"Tony."

"Fine, fine."

Jeez, the women in his life. He loved them all, but they were very, very mean.

  


* * *

  


Step Six: Receive for approval personal shopper's choices with message indicating she hopes you and your 'friend' have a great night.

"Whoops," Tony says.

He only has to open the first link to know he's made a rookie mistake. He should have been much, much clearer about his relationship to the subject of his message.

"What?" Natasha says warily from where she's propped against his shoulder. "She didn't pick something featuring a confederate flag, did she?"

"She did not."

"Wow," Natasha says, peering over at his screen. "That's - that's a lot of effect for very little fabric."

"Uh huh," Tony says belatedly. Then he clears his throat and switches off his phone before he can be tempted to open up the rest of the links. 

"Okay, terrible idea. You're right, none of these are going to be suitable and also? Its's time for you to go now."

Natasha makes a disappointed noise but she dutifully finishes the last of her wine. "You need to give me this person's number so she can shop for me."

"At a later date," Tony agrees. "In the meantime: you never saw that, we never talked about this."

"Uh huh."

Then that's that. He's alone with his phone and some very nice pictures of sexy lingerie. 

  


* * *

  


Step Seven: Mistakenly imagine each and every outfit on your mentee.

Letting Natasha leave was a mistake. Minus her presence, his brain has no problem translating images on a screen to what they might look like on an actual person.

Who isn't Peter.

Definitely not Peter.

Peter would not look good in any of these.

Peter is far too sweet for any of these to be suitable.

Nope.

 _Still -_ his brain says. _They need to help._ Just a little visualisation would move things along. It would allow him to narrow down what is and isn't suitable ready to make a second, much more suitable request of Jessika. For items with more fabric. And less ribbons that were clearly made to be undone with teeth.

Just a little visualisation of the turquoise blue ones with ruffles over the hip, they had the most to them. They would probably look okay on Peter. And they came with a little camisole in the same fabric that would probably drape nicely over his chest. And they were very tastefully accentuated by the black lace. Worn together both pieces they would probably even cover plenty of skin. They only screamed 'fuck me' a little. Unlike the rest, which would give anyone undressing Peter a full on heart attack. 

Not that Tony was sure he still supported the someone-undressing-Peter outcome.

In fact, now he thought about it, Peter should definitely remain clothed. Halloween wasn't for slutty things. Halloween was for dressing up as something stupid and hanging out with your friends. And although he was definitely going to give the go ahead for purchase of every naughty thing currently open on his phone, he was going to keep them in his drawer for another time because it was not appropriate to send any of them to Peter. At all.

  


* * *

  


Step Eight: Cold shower

Definitely not appropriate. To imagine. His mentee. Wearing peach pink panties that were all lace. No single part of them not somewhat see-through. Tight on the hips because Peter was already getting flustered and wanted them off.

Definitely not cool to imagine him moaning in Tony's lap wearing a pair of those little jewelled things on his nipples in just the same colour. Squirming as Tony squeezed his nipples tight through them, teasing him, listening to him moan, each sensation new because no-one had ever thought to give him nice lingerie before.

Definitely not mentorly to imagine him in the white leather body harness with the tiny gold buckles and nothing else. Laid out on the bed. Straps round his thighs and under the soft curve of each of his asscheeks, more straps round his waist and his chest, the buckles glinting on his skin as he begged to be touched, stroked all over with a feather.

Nope.

  


* * *

  


Step Nine: Pull self together. Text mentee and respectfully offer assistance with romantic endeavours.

**Hey kiddo, re: text I didn't get, if you need any help, here's the number for my personal shopper. I won't look. Give her some pointers and let her work her magic. trust me.**

There, done.

  


* * *

  


Step Ten: Ignore the complete radio silence and attend party as if nothing ever happened.

Peter is late. At least a whole hour late. Tony knows because he checked the car had arrived forty minutes ago and found out that Peter was keeping it waiting. _Peter_. Who has never, ever kept a car he's sent waiting before. Not even by five minutes. He was always there on the kerb early and eager. Desperate to hang out, to see Tony and play with the cool science toys, to tell Tony stories about squirrel parkour and petty criminals.

God, he's probably used Tony's account to purchase something truly obscene and is on his way to please his crush at a young person party. If he hits Tony's party at all it'll just be as an afterthought, a 'I promised my sorta-boss I'd show my face' kind of deal. 

No eighteen year old _actually_ wanted to hang with a bunch of old -

"Mr Stark?"

Huh.

He turns round sheepishly and blinks. 

Peter has wings. Actual fluffy wings. And a sword slung over his back. And a breastplate. And a shield. The only part of the outfit Tony recognises at all is the sheet underneath everything else, still doubling up as some kind of robe. 

He looks like something from a porn-posing-as-art kind of play. Or one of those chapel ceiling paintings featuring sexually-charged archangels ready to smite the non-believers.

"Hi," Peter says, completely oblivious to Tony's internal crisis. "Sorry about the being late. Someone downstairs was going to lend me the sandals but then she got locked out and - actually never mind. Hi."

"Hi," Tony parrots back. There is some kind of gold band nestled in Peter's hair. That seems very weird and unfair. Someone has also applied glitter to Peter's cheeks. 

Who? He wonders absently. Whom? Has done that? Why has somebody done that?

"You look -" he says.

"Yeah?" Peter replies, his eyes big and hopeful. Always seeking validation, the kid. Tony probably ought to train him out of that.

"I know it's not very slutty," Peter says quickly, staring down at his be-sandaled legs. "But -"

"It's a little slutty."

Peter freezes, swallowing. "Really? In a - a bad way?"

"No. Well, bad for everyone else, good for you. It's fine, Pete. You look fine. Do you want a drink? I'm thinking about a few more drinks."

"Fine," Peter repeats. His eyes slide slowly towards to the floor again. "Okay, thanks."

"It's great," Tony corrects, realising his mistake. "You look -"

Lovely. (Nope). Edible. (Definitely not). Dangerous. (Okay but likely to be misinterpreted). Golden. (Ridiculous). 

Peter looks up when the silence stretches, his expression much more guarded than it was before, the joy starting to seep away. Tony's heart climbs part of the way up into his throat. Don't fuck this up, his brain says.

"Hmm."

Peter blinks, but then he very slowly gives a tiny smile, like Tony's said something flattering instead of just failed on actual words. "It's okay. You don't have to say nice things just because."

"I'm not."

"Oh," Peter says softly. "Really? Because -"

"Let's go get that drink," Tony interrupts. He can feel himself teetering on the edge of telling Peter how many people in the room would line up on their knees to get beneath his robe and well, he's not giving the kid any ideas. Watching from the corner while everyone else got to shoot their shot is not his idea of fun.

\---

"So, Happy Halloween?" Peter says, once Tony has poured them each a glass of the blood-coloured punch.

"Happy Halloween," Tony replies. Up close he can see Peter has a harness on over the breastplate. Presumably it goes all the way round to hold the sword in place. It's blessedly brown and not white. Tony's not sure what he would do if it had been white.

"Nice wings."

"Thanks," Peter says, looking pleased. "May and MJ helped, we had to glue a lot of feathers."

"I bet."

Somehow the idea that Peter made most of his own costume is no longer slightly pitiful but instead is touching, even bordering on appealing. Peter sat down and thought about what to wear to his party. Peter enlisted friends to help him look just right. Peter looks like something that may have actually fallen from heaven. Peter is putting in all that effort to woo someone else. Lovely.

"I like your costume too," Peter says, gesturing at Tony with an uncertain expression. "Is it - ?" Are you -?"

"I'm a king. Recently made crownless. Nat and Rhodey stole my kingdom and threatened regicide if I didn't give it up."

"That's kinda mean, right? I mean if you wanted, I could help you get your crown back. I have a sword."

He really does look intensely hopeful. No wonder people buy him churros when he gives them directions.

"You have a sword," Tony confirms, as if he needs any reminder about Peter's little getup. "Yes. We should do that. Reclaim my crown and then behead the traitors."

"Yeah?" Peter says, looking uncharacteristically eager for a plan that involves lopping off heads. "Okay."

Tony nods and then makes a mental note that it's time for him to stop staring. He's had his fill now, other people need their turn. Someone else should get their share of the way Peter's hair looks all glossy in the light. And kinda tussled. Like somebody ran their hands through it to fluff it up.

Wow, what a horrible thought.

"So, now?" Peter says, gripping his glass way too tightly for a super-person. "Shall we go make a plan now?"

The wall between Tony's sensible thoughts and less sensible thoughts takes another robust hit. Why did the kid have to be so eager all the time? Was he like that with everyone? Was he planning to look up at someone later on tonight and say 'So, now? Shall we do the fucking now?'. Maybe Tony ought to borrow the sword and put himself out of his misery there and then.

"Probably a good idea while I'm still half sober and you're still -" 

A virgin.

"- excited about killing in the name."

"Okay."

Peter's happy grin does that weird and confusing thing inside Tony's chest, warming up a spot he hadn't even realised was cold. It's like having Peter pressed up against him in a mini portable hug.

Or more like it's a vital reminder that he's been keeping his own company too much again. That's the key issue. He hasn't spent any time alone and naked with another person in at least two months. That's where the inappropriate stuff is coming from and it's no-one's fault but his own.

This sudden emotional response to Peter in a re-purposed sheet and some feathers? It's just a side effect. That's all.

See? he tells himself. Everything is fine.

\----

"Peter - " Tony says, staring dumbly at his own hand. It's clasped in Peter's. Worse (better?) still, Peter is using it to lead him through the crowd.

His hand wasn't there a minute ago. A minute ago his hand had been up on Peter's shoulder. It had been doing a nice, appropriate, mentorly squeeze. And sure, it had been there awhile because Barton had flagged them down and started talking, but it had definitely been up there, on Peter's shoulder.

He probably shouldn't have whispered 'rescue me' under his breath out the corner of his mouth. That was when Peter had made that little thoughtful face and shrugged Tony's hand off. Then it had slid all the way down the outside of Peter's arm, down all that bare skin all warm and goose-pimpled. And then, _then_ when Tony's hand had come to rest right next to Peter's, that was when Peter had calmly clasped it in his and used it to lead him away.

Not even a polite sorry to Barton. Just Peter's fingers gently pulling him onward. Him, Tony Stark. Like a freighter being towed out of port by a tugboat.

"Hey, Earth to kiddo. Where are we going?" 

Peter opens another door and peers inside. It's a coatroom. Tony's been in there more than once and doesn't think it's somewhere Peter should go. The kind of things that happen in coatrooms at parties are not appropriate for Peter.

"Can we plan in here?" Peter says, tugging him.

"No," Tony says firmly. "Wait, what are we planning?"

"Um, death for the traitors?"

Peter's mouth is doing some kind of shy in-joke smile thing. Like, look Mr Stark, I made a funny that's just for us. Tony's pretty sure the only death on the horizon is going to be his if he doesn't get his hand separated from Peter's soon. May would murder him if he let her nephew drag him into the depths of a coatroom.

"Nuh uh," he says, pulling Peter backwards and then turning the handle on the door back to closed. Peter's spare hand is still on said handle, as it turns out.

Peter's breathing hitches just a little when that happens, it also turns out.

"Next one along," Tony croaks. It probably isn't somewhere they should go, but at least it's not a coatroom.

"Okay." 

There's a blush spreading right across Peter's cheeks. Tony has a feeling he's not doing a great job of staring at the kid less. He's going to blame it on the pleasant buzz from the punch and not the way it feels to have someone tug him around like they can't be without him. (What is he? Six?) Like they want him and him alone. (Has he ever let someone pull him around with this much determination before?) 

What you are feeling is the result of an absence of touch, Tony's brain chips in, in FRIDAY'S voice. This is what happens if you go two months without sleeping with anyone and your favourite person turns up in home-made wings with glitter on his cheeks.

It's only ten or so steps to the next door. Peter takes them all backwards, staring at Tony like he can't look away.

Like an ancient creaky clock, Tony's mind ticks over to the next segment of thought. Peter is staring at him just as hard as he is staring back. Peter is holding his hand and leading him away so they can be alone. Peter is fumbling blindly with the stairwell door. Peter came to this party set for seduction and hasn't spoken to anyone but him.

Maybe he's missed something kind of big.

\---- 

Inside the stairwell Peter's hand is almost unbearably warm. The music from the party is just a murmur. Tony's brain is tumbling through idea after idea, reflection after thought after notion after terrible bad idea. He needs to be a good mentor and let Peter down gently. He needs to be a bad mentor and not let Peter down at all. It would be bad to let Peter down when Peter needs him. Therefore he would be a good mentor not to let Peter down. Maybe he could be bad but very gentle. Maybe he could be good but they could redefine what that means.

"So, strategy." His voice sounds raspy to his ears. "For taking back my crown."

Peter doesn't look like he's going to be much good for discussing strategy. He looks like Tony feels, like someone's taken a pizza cutter to his life, rearranged all the messy little pieces of it, and then presented them back to him in the right order.

"What you got for me, Pete? How we gonna deal with the traitors?"

Their hands are still intertwined so Tony rubs the pad of his thumb against Peter's palm. To ground himself, to be there in the moment and not in the syrupy mess that's his brain. Not at all to find out what it feels like when Peter shivers.

Peter's mouth parts but it's his eyes that talk first, going straight down to look at Tony's fingers touching his. 

"Maybe -" he says, his voice quiet. "Maybe we could ambush them?" 

"Sure." 

Drawing bigger, firmer circles on Peter's palm seems like a sensible plan. So does watching the way that Peter's eyelids lower just a little, the way his throat bobs when he swallows. 

"Get the people we want alone," he says. "Somewhere where we have the upper hand. Sounds good. What then?"

Peter's eyes slide back up to Tony's. His chest-plate is rising and falling quicker than it was a minute ago. This is the kid that can stop a bus, Tony thinks, that can leap between buildings on a gossamer thread.

"We could overpower them?" Peter says.

Yup. "And then?"

"We take the crown?"

Something thickens the saliva in Tony's mouth, making it harder to swallow and form words. Other hungrier things are stirring inside him too, wondering how long they can drag this out and where they might get to go afterwards.

"Because it belongs to us?"

He's sure he can feel a thumping pulse in Peter's hand, in the thumb that he's now tracing. In the curve of his own ear, in his chest, in his toes.

"Yeah," Peter says. The word comes out soft. The glitter on his cheeks is shimmering, like he might just be a hallucination of Tony's mind. 

"Because it belongs to me?" Tony murmurs.

Peter takes a shuddery breath, squeezing Tony's hand so hard it almost hurts. 

"Yes."

\---

Tony doesn't remember how they got inside the elevator. That part is a blur. But he's grateful to his legs and to whoever's hand pressed the button for up. Might've been him, his voice doesn't seem to be working so he would've had to use his hands. Then again, Peter's smart, he might've worked the button thing out.

"This is real, right?" Peter says.

Tony isn't one hundred percent sure of that himself. Is the way the reflected light is making Peter's hair look like gold real? Is the reverent way Peter is looking at him real?

"It's not a joke and you're gonna make me get off at the lab?"

Tony has to try twice to get actual words out of his mouth. "You think I've got it in me to let you out of here at all?"

"Oh. So -"

"Peter," Tony says. He reaches for Peter's other hand and gently takes hold of it too. "We are both going upstairs and then unless you say no, I am going to take you out of every piece of clothing you're wearing and we are not leaving my bed until tomorrow."

"Oh," Peter says again, this time with a full body shudder. "Yeah?"

"That's what you want, right?"

Tony really hopes so because saying it out-loud is making it seem real in a way that's eroding rational thought.

Peter nods eagerly, his hands twisting in Tony's until he's laced their fingers together. His blush is spreading down his neck, making it impossible for Tony not to think about leaving marks there later, possessive marks for the whole world to see.

"So you like the costume, then?" Peter whispers shyly.

Tony groans, giving in and pulling lightly on Peter's hands, just to watch him wobble a tiny bit closer. "It is a travesty that you're still wearing it."

"So you don't like it?"

It has to be a tease. This has to be Peter trying to make him lose his mind completely.

"You're toying with my sanity because you can now, correct?"

"Do you, though?" Peter says. "Do you like it?"

Tony pulls his hands free. He needs them to reach up and touch Peter's face. To take it in his hands. To touch that glitter, finally. To feel Peter beneath his fingertips and check if he's real. If he's going to break all the rules, he's going to do it properly. Up close. Where he can see Peter's mouth give a little gasp. Where he can see Peter's eyes widen and those eyelashes lower. Where he can watch Peter's gaze turn from cautious to pleased.

Peter leans forward at the same time as he does, bringing their foreheads together. Between them a whole other intimate universe forms. There it's totally fine for Tony to be in over his head. It's totally fine to feel like he's been swallowed up by a portal and dumped out somewhere completely different where he might somehow deserve Peter Parker.

The last brick from the wall holding back his irrational mind crumbles and slips away.

"If after tonight you ever wear this outfit for anyone else, I will never speak to you again."

Peter shudders and then sighs, the happy sound of it brushing right up against Tony's mouth. He edges just a little closer, looking at Tony so hopefully that there genuinely becomes a good chance they might not ever make it out of the elevator.

"Which is a yes, by the way."

"Oh," Peter says.

"Yes, I like your costume."

Then he kisses Peter too, for added clarity.

Peter makes a little noise that sounds desperate, like Tony's hurting him and needs to fix him all at the same time. There's no way to respond except to gather him up and press him back against the elevator wall, to kiss him again twice as firm. There's a thing inside Tony's chest trying to claw its way out that wants permission to do more. To claim Peter, to whisper possessive things in his ear, to tug his clothes off and get him naked in the golden light of the elevator. To fuck him there against the metal in this space that isn't real, that just belongs to them. He bites down on Peter's bottom lip instead, feels the way it makes Peter's whole body shiver. Then he licks and kisses at that spot, sucking Peter's lip into his mouth and watching how it makes Peter's forehead go smooth, his shoulders lax, his body loose and arching towards Tony's.

The elevator pings.

Peter startles, pulling back, his eyes flying open and staring at the door as it starts to slide open. 

"Not the lab," Tony murmurs, kissing his way up Peter's cheek to his ear. "I promise."

Peter turns back, relaxing again, nudging his face up for another kiss even as Tony reaches for his waist and starts to hitch him up. 

"There's a bed out there with our names on, come on kiddo, we got this."

Peter comes up for him easy after that, legs wrapping round Tony's waist like they belong there, arms looping carefully round Tony's neck. His face he presses into the space between Tony's left shoulder blade and his ear.

There, with his mouth right up against Tony's skin, he whispers something that Tony is going to make sure no-one else in the world ever gets to hear.


End file.
